


Love Me Tender

by Kaiisan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Worship, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff, Learning to Dance, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentions of Elvis Presley Songs, Random & Short, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Slow Dancing, Songfic, Tenderness, idk what im doing tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:14:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiisan/pseuds/Kaiisan
Summary: This song just makes me think of these two, okay.Aziraphale and Crowley find a dance they can do.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	Love Me Tender

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, just some short notes here. Thanks for sticking with me if you're subbed to me/following my other fics. In short, I'm trying to make it back to writing again, starting with this little thing. Longer note at the bottom!

_Love me tender,_

_love me sweet,_

_never let me go._

_You have made my life complete,_

_and I love you so._

_Love me tender,_

_love me true,_

_all my dreams fulfilled._

_For my darlin' I love you,_

_and I always will._

  
  


It’d been Crowley’s idea. He’d stopped by an old vinyl shop and picked up a few classics - Queen, AC/DC, Sinatra, and Elvis. Aziraphale never really updated his musical tastes since the gavotte went out of fashion, but he’d taken a surprising interest in Sinatra and ‘The King of Rock and Roll’ - especially his gentler, more romantic songs. 

Crowley brought him a record player to keep in the bookshop, and from then the collection of vinyls grew between them. The angel found himself learning the lyrics to many of them, humming and singing them on occasion, and on occasion being caught by a fondly-smirking demon, who joins him in humming quietly.   
It was at Anathema’s and Newton’s wedding that Aziraphale learned about the type of dancing that was just ‘swaying’. It was slow, gentle, romantic; the type of dance humans usually did as their first dance as a married couple. He watched from afar as the two of them swayed - Anathema in her beautiful white dress, arms draped over Newton’s shoulders, as her beet-red husband held her delicately by the waist. The emotions were radiating off them in waves, throngs and throngs of love washing over the crowd like pulses. Angels were often able to feel and visualise strong emotions, especially love, and though he’d tuned out of human emotions many decades ago, it was impossible to ignore this love. This love that burned bright and swallowed him whole. Tears fell unbidden to his cheeks as another, separate pulse of affection brushed his senses, stronger and even deeper than the newly wedded couple. He searched for it in the crowd, wondering who else could be feeling something so intimate--

Crowley’s golden eyes met his across the dance floor.

He’d been observing him from another part of the hall, leaning on a pillar with a large wine glass in hand, and even with his sunglasses hiding his eyes, Aziraphale just _knows_ their eyes have met. The pulse happens again, smaller, surprised, shying away from his vision, and he can’t have that, he can’t let it disappear again--  
He’d already lost it once. When he’d told him he was going too fast. 

_“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”  
_ _Too fast. Too intense. The pulses of love, affection, want, fear, everything that rolled off the demon’s aura only strengthened over every century they’d developed their Arrangements, Favours and Pacts, near-discorporation moments, and it was too much for the Angel - not with Heaven and Hell breathing down their backs at any given time. He’d_ _pushed him away. And since then, the pulse faded._

And now it’s back. Not back- rather, released, unable to be held within its spiritual restraints no longer. It’s disappearing but not gone, now at rest within Crowley’s aura at a manageable size, and he’s possessed with a sudden urge to talk to Crowley about this. This - aura, t-this _feeling_ that’s gone unspoken between them for far too long.

Someone bumps into him, momentarily causing Aziraphale to break eye contact with the demon as he apologises to the stranger, insisting there’s no need for fuss - before he realises that Crowley has disappeared from his spot by the pillar. He huffs, striding after him, following that faint aura trail that belongs uniquely to the demon. Hallway after hallway, until finally heading outside, in a well-maintained garden. There’s a small bandstand as a centrepiece, and there the angel finds him, leaning against the railing lining the side that faces the hall, where music can still be faintly heard amongst the noises of the wildlife and occasional car going past in the distance. The sky is clear too; moonlight falling over the hedgerows and capturing the glint of Crowley’s sunglasses as he stares up at the spherical shape above them. He approaches slowly; the other man knows he’s there, so he doesn’t worry about surprising him, but he hesitates in case the conversation turns sour. He takes a breath--

“Don’t.” 

It’s soft, yet firm. It stops Aziraphale in his tracks at the bottom step of the bandstand, looking upwards at him in confusion. Crowley hasn’t turned to look at him, continuing to stare upwards.

“Whatever you think you saw, or felt, forget it. It didn’t happen.”

“I know what I felt-”

“It didn’t happen. It _can’t_ happen, Angel. You said it yourself,” he pauses, and the angel watches his jaw clench and unclench. “Demons can’t love. Can’t _be_ loved.”

“I’ve never said that!” Protesting, he takes the odd few steps up onto the wooden stand and strides towards the redhead, who turns away to hide his face. It stings, to see his friend of so many years acting like this. 

“You’re an Angel, you love all beings. But not like…” he trailed off, waving a hand towards the hall where cheering could be heard. “Not like them. Like that. That specific kinda love.”

“Dear boy, what in the universe makes you believe that?” Aziraphale tries to keep the hurt out of his voice. “Has this past year since Armageddon not proved otherwise?” With each pause he steps closer, trying sincerely to convey himself earnestly. “Have I not shown you that I am choosing you? That I’m on _our_ side?”

Crowley’s jaw clenches tightly again, saying nothing. Aziraphale can still feel his aura, that pulse of love fluctuating at their close proximity with fear and self-loathing mingled in. He understands it all. He understands how he’s hurt him before, how their time apart after their fights stung, how their rekindled friendship did more than make them friends again. It brought forward many unspoken feelings and thoughts, ones he’d hoped had become more clear when they stopped the end of the world and exiled themselves from their respective sides. How they’d stayed on Earth with the friends they’ve made here, sharing little moments like the vinyls and the Ritz and trips to the park.   
He realises after a moment that Crowley is turning to look at him, curious to the silence. What expression does he have on his own face? He’s not sure but he can see Crowley’s reaction to it; surprise and a little shame, guilt, longing. He takes another step forward, practically trapping the demon against the railing of the stands. 

“I’m sorry, Crowley.” He takes the other’s hand, lifting it slowly. “For all the hurt I have caused you.” Slowly, softly, he raises it to his lips and kisses his pale skin with as much love as he can pour into it. It causes a small noise in response, which he takes as a good sign, and he tugs Crowley’s hand down to rest on his waist. The demon’s expression is unreadable other than shocked, and for a moment he tries to pull away, but he holds him there firmly. “You’re not going too fast anymore.”

“Ngk-?”

“Before.” Aziraphale flushes slightly, his words shaky now that he’s rapidly losing his bravado. “I’d told you once that -- this, us, The Arrangement, _this--_ ” his grip on Crowley’s sleeve tightens as he steps closer, the waistcoats of their suits brushing as he now stands only a hair's width apart from him. “--was too much for me. It was too fast. I could _feel_ how you felt and I was scared and pushed you away and _I’m sorry_ , Crowley. I don’t want to push you away anymore. Rather the opposite, in fact.”

His voice was barely above a whisper now, hands trembling as he stares up at the taller man with wide, hopeful eyes as he feels a mix of fear and excitement from both of their auras blending together. Cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly, Crowley’s gaze wanders down from his eyes to his mouth, which makes goosebumps rise on his skin, and ever-so-slightly, the hand on his waist grips tighter. 

“The opposite..?”

“Yes.” He leans up on his toes, steadying himself with a hand on the other man’s jaw, fingers curling into copper strands of wavy hair that’s been growing out of his former hairstyle. “I want to pull you close. Is that okay?”

They’re nose to nose now, almost, and he can feel the shuddering breath Crowley takes as he nervously places his other hand on Aziraphale’s waist, their fronts pressing together a little more firmly.

“Yes.”

He’s kissing him before he can say anything else.

* * *

  
  


_Love me tender,_

_love me long,_

_take me to your heart._

_For it's there that I belong,_

_and we'll never part._

_Love me tender,_

_love me true,_

_all my dreams fulfilled._

_For my darlin' I love you,_

_and I always will._

Crowley has freckles.

Aziraphale had never realised this small, unusual fact about the demon. He claims to have not placed them on his skin intentionally; that it happened as a result of being under the sun too much. He’d never been close enough to see them until recently, and he eagerly explores them now, as they crawl into Crowley’s bed. It’s soft and comfortable, and though the angel doesn’t sleep, he often enjoys reading next to the sleeping demon. Reading, and now tracing freckles.  
He has one behind his right ear. Leaning over, he presses a soft kiss to the small mark, humming happily as Crowley responds with a shudder. He peaks one eye open at the smiling angel.

“What’re ya up to?”

“Admiring you.”

“Mngh.”

He hums and kisses the freckle again, trailing small kisses further down Crowley’s neck and shoulder. The redhead slept shirtless on warm summer evenings like tonight, and Aziraphale is plenty thankful for it as he finds another freckle on the sharp ridge of his collarbone. His book is completely forgotten about now as he wraps an arm around his partner’s slim waist, cuddling into him.

“Angel…”

Crowley’s voice is soft, weak and wanting and yet still hesitant in its expression. He’s not used to being loved and worshipped like this, this open soft affection new and wonderful to him. It’s new to Aziraphale too; and he’s pleased to be the one to make him feel this way. 

He finds a couple more freckles down the redhead’s chest, and one big one on his stomach above his belly button too. He remembers their first conversation about belly buttons; the ridiculousness of having to corporate them onto their bodies despite not being ‘born’ as humans are. He did, however, admire the belly button piercing Crowley had sported during the 70s. It went well with the times. Now, he simply admires the expanse of smooth, creamy skin under his touch. Feeling the shudders and quiet noises Crowley makes under his attention only spurs him to continue, tracing small patterns up and down his side as he idly kisses across his chest and neck. It’s only when he hears a quiet sniff that he looks up, just in time to see Crowley wipe a single tear away quickly.

“Are you-”

“No. Shaddup.” He mumbles, pouting and turning his face away. As Aziraphale tries to wiggle closer he turns completely, curling up on his side and pressing his face to his pillow.

“Crowley. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Mmph.”

“You needn’t hide your emotions from me, love. Crying is a natural thing that happens when one feels overwhelmed.” He sits up a little, combing his fingers through the demon’s hair gently. “I’m sorry if my affection was too much-”

“...” Crowley mumbles incoherently.

“Pardon?”

“...I don’t deserve it.” 

He pauses. His heart wrenches painfully at the admission, guilt and sadness washing over him as he feels for the man beside him. This wasn’t fair. He doesn’t deserve this pain, this rejection of love. He deserves so much more than what these thoughts tell him. 

“Crowley… look at me. _Look at me._ ” He says firmly as he doesn’t get a response the first time. The demon turns his head slightly with a half-hearted glare. Aziraphale has none of it; taking him by the shoulder and hip and rolling him onto his back, a yelp and _oof_ following as he crawls onto Crowley’s lap and takes his face firmly by both cheeks.

“Look. At. Me!”

“What the bloody he-”

“I love you.” 

Crowley clamps his mouth shut. Feeling like he’s finally listening to him and not his thoughts, Aziraphale continues.

“I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. I denied this for many centuries, I admit, but it’s true. I’ve been so in love with you for so long I thought I might discorporate sometimes.” He brushes messy strands away from his forehead and leans down to press a soft kiss there. “You are beautiful. Every form, every variation, every time period I’ve seen you in, I’ve loved every single one. Your hair glows vibrantly to me, like a burning sunset, or a rich Merlot at the Ritz.” He can’t resist petting his hair gently, tangling his fingers in and kissing handfuls of it. “I love that you smell of apples. Is it intentional? Accidental? I have no idea, but you always smell of crisp, fresh fruit, sweet and sour and oh so addictive.”

Crowley whines audibly now at every statement, eyes squeezed shut. His whole face is aflame, adorably so, and Aziraphale suspects he’s trying not to cry.

“I love your eyes.” He continues softly, pressing soft kisses to those tense eyelids. “They have never shown me any evil or malice. You may insist some days that you dislike them, that people fear them, but I never have. They suit you; I would miss them terribly so if you changed them.”

“Sssttop…” 

“That lisp is quite adorable too.” Aziraphale chuckles, causing the demon to groan and try to push him away by his shoulders. “I love that in some moments you can’t control it. A rather fond side effect of being a serpent, hmm?”

“It’sss not adorable..” Crowley opens his eyes now to glare at him, to which he responds by kissing him, slowly and firmly, until his hands on the angel’s shoulders slacken and he relaxes back onto the bed. His own hands trail from his hair to his shoulders, tracing circles around the freckles he’d discovered earlier.

“Your imperfections are what make you _you_ , my dear, that’s exactly why I love them so.” He sighs softly. He leans back to admire the body of the man underneath him. “I love all of your quirks and habits. I love that you change your fashion with every passing human fancy. I love that sometimes you can’t decide between long hair and short hair. I love that you’re taller than I am. I love that you care about your plants, even if you shout at them. I love when you bring me something because it reminded you of me, how thoughtful you are. I love that you’re nice, no matter how much you deny it. I love how fond you are of children, how much fun you have playing with them when you think no one is looking. I love that you stop to pet cats. And dogs. And help the elderly cross the street. I love that even though you’re capable of so much negativity and evil, you’ve always _chosen not to._ You choose to be good, you choose the Earth and humanity, you choose me..” 

He sniffs once, laughing quietly as he wipes his own tears. Crowley’s eyes are suspiciously shiny too. “Heavens, I-I mean- gosh golly, can’t you see how much you mean to me? How desperately I want you to see how much I love you? You deserve the world Crowley, not just because you helped save it. You deserve it because of who you _are_ , and who you are to me. I would be nothing without you by my side. You’ve made me who I am now, and I will always be thankful for that. I want to worship you, cherish you, promise you everything you could ever ask for. My eternal soul is _yours_ , Crowley, and nobody else's, not even Her Almighty.”

“Angel… Angel, that’s enough.” Crowley sits up carefully, keeping Aziraphale on his lap as he leans up to wrap him in his arms around him tightly. He sobs and falls into the embrace, noting that the other man is crying too as he feels tears stain his pajama shirt. 

“I love you. I love you so much.” He sniffs against Crowley’s shoulder. 

“I know. I know Angel. I love you too. I’m sorry I worried you.” Large, warm hands rub circles across his back, which soothes him greatly. He reaches up and scratches at Crowley’s scalp and hair in response, knowing how he enjoys it. “It’s hard to forget the bad things I’ve done sometimes, ya know? I could’ve been worse, like ya said, but… I still did bad things. I was a demon, still am, technically. It’s hard to accept that that part of me is over and I can have nice things now. That I can actually have you.”

Aziraphale pulls back slightly so that they’re face to face, bumping foreheads together. Neither of them are crying anymore, but cheeks are damp and eyes are still bright and red. “I’ll always be yours, love. Always.”

“And I’m yours, Angel. Heaven ‘n Hell ain’t got nothin’ on us.” 

* * *

  
  


_Love me tender,_

_love me dear,_

_tell me you are mine._

_I'll be yours through all the years,_

_till the end of time._

_Love me tender,_

_love me true,_

_all my dreams fulfilled._

_For my darlin' I love you,_

_and I always will._

  
  


“I’d like for us to try something, Crowley.”

“That’s not suspicious at all.” 

He huffs a sigh, tapping his foot impatiently as he beckons the demon opposite him closer. They’re standing in the empty space towards the back of the bookshop, by the vinyl player he’d been gifted. It’s late in the evening and after a perfect dinner at the Ritz, Aziraphale wanted to try something new, something that could be one of their new _things_.  
The demon finally shuffles closer, a neutral scowl twitching up into a shy smirk as Aziraphale tugs them both together face-to-face.

“What’s this about, Angel?”

“I want us to try dancing.”

The redhead laughs. “I don’t think either of us are meant to be dancin’, ‘specially not together.”

“You never know until you try.” Aziraphale sets his shoulders and lifts his arms, grabbing Crowley’s hands and guiding one to his lower back, keeping the other clutched in his firmly. There’s a delightful blush to the demon’s cheeks, despite their continually growing relationship, and it makes him smile delightedly. With a click of his fingers, a vinyl slides into motion on the player and the music starts. Crowley recognises it immediately, chuckling, and shakes his head. 

“So how does this work then, Angel?”

“Well,” humming, he makes sure Crowley is holding his back correctly, as it had wandered slightly _downwards, ahem,_ then places his free hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “We simply take a step to one side together, and then step back. Anathema said that this type of dance is the simplest, it’s called ‘swaying’.”

After a short noise of affirmation, Crowley stares down at their shoes, then hesitantly steps to the left, which Aziraphale follows. A pause, and then they take a small step back to the right. As they get the hang of stepping in time with each other, it almost falls in time with the music playing in the background, and suddenly there they were; in tune and in time, not only swaying together but connected, body and soul.

  
  


_(When at last my dreams come true_

_Darling this I know_

_Happiness will follow you_

_Everywhere you go)._

  
  


A smile. A hum. A hand on the small of his back, the other clasped in his own, feet shuffling side to side idly.

They aren’t dancing, not really, but they’d learned that even if Angels and Demons are unable to dance, they can sway. 

So they swayed together.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, if you're reading this I love you. Please check out my other works, I know most are unfinished but I'm getting around to them---
> 
> Anyway. To explain my disappearance, my nana passed away in November. It took a big toll on myself and my mum and we havent really been the same since. A lot of changes are happening right now and December/January was HARD to get through. It's been difficult but honestly? February has been good. Really good. Things are starting to look up.  
> Future months are still looking a little chaotic but I'm optimistic I'll get back to writing soon. Sweet Tooth chapter 6 was started but tbh I hate it so it's all being re-written lol.
> 
> Bare with me! <3


End file.
